Page 2 of A Dark Infinity

Maybe this is where I need to drag my Little Bird.

2

Lark

Thestreetisveiledin darkness as I navigate my way home from work, every step echoing in the ominous silence of the night. It’s been two weeks since I threw the velvet box, my stalker’s twisted gift, out the window, and in that time, there have been no more haunting reminders of his sinister presence.

Yet, despite the absence of his macabre offerings, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still out there, watching, waiting. The memory of his chilling voice on the phone, the threat that lingered in the air like a toxic cloud, still haunts me.

As I pass a particularly dimly lit alley, a figure lunges out at me, grabbing my arm with a vice-like grip. “What do we have here?” he sneers, tightening his grip on me.

“Let go of me!” I scream, my voice echoing off the walls of the alley, but my cries fall on deaf ears as he drags me further into the darkness. His grip is like iron as he throws me to the ground.

“Nooooo, get off me.” Panic surges through me as I struggle against his hold, the glint of a knife sending terror coursing through my veins.

My lip splits as I hit the pavement, a sharp burst of pain shooting through me as I cry out in agony. I’m screaming as I try to move away from the cruel hands that’s holding me down, and the putrid breath that’s too close to my face. My attacker lets out a mirthless chuckle, though he doesn’t let go. Instead he holds me tighter, telling me all the sick and depraved things he wants to do to my body.

“Please let me go,” I sob.

Tears blur my vision as I struggle harder, thrashing under the man who has climbed on top of me, pinning my arms down with his knees.

Suddenly, my attacker is gone and above me is my stalker. “She’s mine,” he growls at the attacker, his voice dripping with malice as he advances on the man he threw off me like he weighs nothing.

Without hesitating, I scurry away from the men, leaning against the wall at my back. I’m trembling with fear and disbelief as the two figures engage in a violent and brutal struggle.

No matter how much I try, I can’t make myself look away from the scene unfolding in front of me. So I watch in horrified fascination as my stalker unleashes a flurry of devastating blows, each strike precise and calculated. The attacker is no match for his skill and ferocity, and in mere moments, he cries out in pain and blood gushes from his shoulder where the knife he threatened me with is embedded.

My heart pounding in my chest as I tremble with fear and revulsion as my stalker kicks and punches the other man. It’s so brutal, yet satisfying. I know the man was going to hurt me so I have no sympathy for him.

When the dust settles and the attacker lies dead, my stalker turns to face me, his dark Purge inspired mask a chilling sight in the darkness. He approaches me slowly, his movements deliberate and controlled as he inspects me with a predatory gaze. I shrink back against the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I await my fate.

Reaching me, he stands still for a moment. It’s long enough for me to realize I can see his eyes through the slits in the mask. They’re dark, but not black. More like… gray and stormy. It's like his eyes are showing me all his emotions while he sorts through them. Pain. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Determination. Or maybe that’s just what I want him to feel.

To my surprise, he reaches out and wipes the blood from my split lip with his finger, his touch surprisingly gentle. I recoil instinctively, a shiver coursing through me as he brings his finger to his lips. He sticks his tongue out of the hole in the mask and licks away the blood. What. The. Fuck.

Disgust and intrigue war within me as I watch him, my mind reeling with a mixture of fear and fascination. Tearing my gaze away from the perverse way his tongue wraps around his finger like he wants to make sure he licks up all the blood, I notice the blood on his pants. “Are you hurt?” I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He chuckles darkly. “I’m the one who does the hurting, Lark” he replies, his words sending a chill down my spine. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I-I’m not,” I whisper. “Thanks to you.” The magnitude of my words hit me. My stalker saved me from my attacker. That’s all sorts of messed up on a level I’m not even sure I’m comprehending.

Not trusting my words, my stalker gently pulls me to my feet and makes me turn around so he can inspect me. When he’s satisfied I’m unharmed, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch strangely tender.

“You’ll never be alone again,” he murmurs, his voice a sinister whisper in the darkness. “I’ll always be watching.”

“W-who are you?” I stammer.

My only answer is his dark laughter. I’m just about to ask again when he moves his hand to the back of my head. “What are you—” He slams his lips to mine, kissing me hard and brutal.

The taste of blood mingles with the taste of him as his tongue delves into my mouth. I’m shaking, but I don’t think it’s only from fear anymore. His kiss is like a riptide, one I can’t escape, and I don’t think I want to.

Pulling away he swipes his tongue across my lip. “Behave, Little Bird. Don’t call the police. Just go straight home.”

“But I—”

“No,” he says forcefully, interrupting me. “Go straight home and lock the door after you.” And with that, he disappears into the night, leaving me shaken and terrified, yet strangely captivated by the enigmatic figure who now looms over my life like a shadowy specter.

I run the rest of the way home, not stopping for anyone or anything. When I reach the front door, I’m surprised to see it has been replaced with a sturdier door. “Shit,” I mumble as I don’t have keys for this monstrosity.

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